


Been a bad boy, Lester?

by SevenThirtySeven



Category: Fargo (2014)
Genre: Crying, Dry Humping, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-07-24
Packaged: 2018-02-10 05:00:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2011842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SevenThirtySeven/pseuds/SevenThirtySeven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Fargo kink meme over on dreamwidth. Prompt:"Lester goes to Lorne for punishment. He's finally understanding what being a "bad boy" has led to."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Been a bad boy, Lester?

Four nights in a row. Lester wipes sweat off his forehead, sitting up in his marital bed. Now occupied only by a widower.  He wonders if you kill your wife if 'widower' is still the right thing to be called. He supposes 'murderer' is the only important title now. The clock's red glow benignly tells him it's 11:30. He'd gone to bed at 7. Couldn't handle being awake in this house when the sun wasn't up. The darkness knew what'd he'd done, taunted him. Egged him on. Do more, it said. His own cowardice won out and he'd downed some sleep aid Kitty had given Pearl with a double of whiskey and mercifully, thankfully, luckily he was out quick.

But this is the fourth night in a row. He's jolted awake by an insistent throbbing between his thighs. Tonight, dream-Lester had taken a punch to the teeth, hit the floor and kept falling and waking-Lester was jolted up, harder than he'd been in recent memory. He squeezed his eyes shut now, hand fisted in the duvet over his groin trying to will his body into submission.

Last night he'd been too late. Groggily made his way back into wakefulness, boxer shorts full if his own ejaculate. So much he'd had to change the sheets. So much that the shorts and his undershirt went into the laundry basket. Standing under the hot spray of the shower, eyes closed to the tile, a man swam into view. Lester recognized the face behind the fist.

It spoke a lot about the current climate of Lester's emotional state that it was barely an issue that he was having such...moving dreams about another man. So much had changed in a week he couldn't muster up the energy to be confused. But tonight it's like he's shaking out of his skin with a combination of feelings that leave him primed to do something really stupid. He should probably just drive his car off a bridge. He knows he won't. He's gotta get out of this house though.

He stuffs his erection into his jeans and grabs his keys. His coat hides his...predicament but nerves kill it on the drive to the motel anyway. So he guesses that's good.

\---

There's a knock on his door at 12:18 am. Hundred bucks it's Lester. And whatya know? If there'd been someone here to bet against he'd be a hundred dollars richer. Lester stands at the threshold chewing on his lip and not saying a damn word. Lorne had still been awake, but he glances behind him at the clock dramatically anyway to fuck with the guy. Lester's almost crying with the intensity of his own nervousness. "Awjeez, I'm sorry. About how late it is, I mean. Real sorry there."

Lorne lets out an amused scoff. The way these people talk up here. Jesus. "You okay, Lester?" He says, relaxed as you please. Lorne's calm seems to be inversely proportioned to Lester's nervousness so he decides to play it real easy.

"Oh yah." Lester grimaces, immediately aware or the ridiculousness of that knee-jerk polite response. Obviously a lie given away by his demeanor.

His tone shoots for somewhere between bored and polite. "Would you like to come in, Lester?" Lester chokes on his words and nods, brushing past Lorne to stand in the middle of the room. Lorne clicks the door shut behind them and turns to face Lester. The dim light coming from the only active lamp hides the blush that Lorne knows is coloring Lester's face. He appears not to be able to speak, gaze locked on the beige, low-pile carpet. Lorne hasn’t decided if he wants to be annoyed or if he wants to have fun with this. He needs more information. "What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering...if you could h-h-help me with...." He trails off, hides his face behind his shaking hand for a moment before bringing it back down to clutch at his bicep. Hmm. That gesture reads loud and clear. Shame. Lorne narrows his eyes.

"Lester."

The man unzips his coat, doffs it and hangs it over the back of a chair. "Look I...prob'ly shouldn'a come over here."  Lorne takes in his appearance as Lester starts pacing in little circles. His hair is sleep mussed. He'd pulled on his ridiculous orange coat over a checked shirt, unbuttoned to reveal the white undershirt beneath. That struck Lorne as odd, immodest. Not very Lester. Hastening the process of getting out of the house, most likely. Panic influencing his actions. Very Lester.

"I just don' know what to do." He actually does look close to tears now. Great, Lorne thinks to himself, guilt. He's firmly decided on annoyance now, not interested in massaging Lester's conscience. 

“Look, Lester. Seems to me you’ve made your bed. There’s nothing I can do to change the situation. I’m not a councilor, I’m not a priest and I’m not your daddy. I can’t-”

“I know! I know. I don’...I don’t need...I don’t know.” He turns his back to Lorne, seems to be psyching himself up for something. 

Lorne lets him. But when he finally turns around he doesn't look any different. Just as nervous and silently pleading as he did when he walked in. Lorne sighs. "Lester, if you don't tell me what the hell you want you have to leave." He's let the annoyance color his tone now. Lester looks away again and stays silent. Five seconds. Then ten and Lorne is walking towards him, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward the door. This seems to spur Lester into action. He starts blubbering, still not actually crying yet thank god. He's saying his no-wait-pleases but Lorne keeps dragging him to the door.

"Wait, my coat!" He tries, and Lorne lets him go. Lester doesn't reach for the coat.

"Lester." He hisses dangerously.

"Please, I'm sorry!" Lester shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut. "I don't think I can...I'm having trouble sleepin', you see." He's finally looking at Lorne, pleading for...Jesus, Lorne doesn't know.

"What the fuck do you want me to do about it?" Again, Lester doesn't say anything but when Lorne goes back in to pull him to the door it starts to get a little weird. Lester kind of half-tackles him into an awkward sideways-hug. Lorne's side pressed up against Lester's chest and the smaller man's face pushed into his shoulder. This development is strange enough but before Lorne can figure out how to deal with it things change again. Quicker than Lorne thought he was capable of, Lester moves back slightly and slaps him across the face.

Lorne has been hit in the face many times in his life. By many different people. And this one wasn't hard enough to set his ears ringing. No spots in his vision. It didn't really even move him bodily all that much. But mixed with the current climate of exasperated confusion it was certainly enough to piss him off royally. Lester, for his part, looks about as shocked as if Lorne was the one who slapped him. Lester barely gets out a whole "jeez" before Lorne punches him square in the mouth. He collapses with a strangled yelp, clutching at his face. Lorne reaches for his arm a third time, doesn’t bother pulling him to his feet, and starts dragging him toward the door. "Lester. I don't know what you think I can do for you but I think it's time to go ho-"

Lorne’s mistake was underestimating the repertoire of the desperate man. Because he's not ready when Lester yanks on his arm and topples him over. And then they're grappling on the floor in the narrow space between the end of the bed and the dresser. Knocking skulls and banging elbows against particle board. Furious flurry of limbs and curses. Lorne's growling out frustration-laced snarls, easily wrenching Lester's arms up above his head. He's got the the advantage now, immobilizing Lester's limbs, his own legs pinning Lester's to the carpet and he's not sure when it happened but Lester is hard.

He can feel the obvious tent in Lester's jeans poking his leg. And then there’s the sloppy, wet kisses (he guesses he’ll call them that but that’s really a loose use of the word) the man beneath him is mouthing against his neck. He allows himself one second of thought before switching gears, pulling Lester's legs up to wrap around his waist. His eyes slide shut as he presses quickly stiffening cock against Lester's.

Lester looks up at him, eyes shinning. Still looking terrified but measurably more satisfied than before. Not quite there yet though. Lorne is fully hard now, biology responding to the warm body but Lester’s desperation giving him all the power and adding fuel to an already substantial fire. Lorne sees that look though. That “need something extra” and plays a hunch. The hand he still has wrapped around Lester’s forearm starts to squeeze. Slowly increasing pressure until he’s reasonably sure he’s leaving marks. With each small increase in pressure, Lester’s legs open a little wider. Tighten around his waist a little more. Throat is bared. Little noises start to escape his carefully sealed lips. A slow smirk strolls lazily across Lorne’s face. That’s what little Lester needed. Some good old fashioned hurtin’. Well, Lorne can do that. He starts to rock his hips and Lester seems to be jolted back to reality. 

“Ohhh, god. Um...do you...? I dunno. I’m sorry-”

“Oh, come on.” Lorne feigns disappointment but doesn’t stop rocking. “You’re not chickening out on me already, are you Lester?” Lorne gives an extra vigorous thrust and Lester’s mouth falls open.

"Sorry. I don’t know. I’m....aw, Jeez! I'm-"

Lorne slaps him across the face half to shut him up and half to give the guy what he wants. Lester lets out a yelp that's cutoff when Lorne smashes their mouthes together, starts rutting against him a little faster. He can taste blood and listerine and moves down to bite at Lester's jaw. Can feel the bruises he's leaving on the man's thighs but he thinks he hears Lester whine "more!" and he can tell he's crying now, tears soaking the carpet beneath his head and Lorne reaches down to free his own erection. Groans at the sensation of hard wet cock rubbing against Lester's denim and hasn't this escalated quickly but he's damn close and he can feel bruises of his own being planted by Lester's knees digging into his waist so he digs too. Flattened palm leaving purple fingertips on Lester's pectoral.

Lester moans. "F-oh!! Jus...please! I'm-" he cuts himself off, digging his teeth into his battered lip hard enough to take it from bruised to busted. 

Lorne’s thrusts are starting to turn uneven. "You're what, Lester?" He says between heavy breathes. He can feel the gathering wetness from they're combined precum on the front of Lester's jeans.

"Nhhhng!" Lester whines.

"What’s that? What are you Lester, hmm? " He says, tone riding the line between mocking and genuinely aroused. It occurred to him days ago: Lester is like his little creation. Just like he’d said to him on the phone. Been a bad boy, Lester? This is just a slightly surprising, unintended side effect. 

"I'm-" Lester is letting out a litany of reedy, choked off moans. Lorne gives him another little push, slaps him again. Harder than before. This time clipping the ridge of his eye-socket. Jerking Lester’s neck hard to the left and then Lester’s coming in his pants. Slamming his head back on the carpet and sobbing “I’mabbbadboy!”

And Lorne repeats it back to him as he shudders through his own orgasm, tries for an "a" but ends up saying "my" as he stripes the front of Lester's jeans and collapses on top of him.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own any of this. This is just how I enjoy fandom. All ideas and characters belong to Noah Hawley, FX, and the wonderful people who created and wrote this show. Also, this is un-beta'd so any mistakes are mine. Comments welcome. 
> 
> Poor Lester is such a nervous fuck, I love him for it.


End file.
